For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and his sojournat the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy with his wildhorde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, a royalist baronwho had captured and hanged two of the outlaw's fighting men; and neveragain after his meeting with the daughter of the chief of the barons didNorman of Torn raise a hand against the rebels or their friends.

Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome of hisexpedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of a dozen armedknights. Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learn the mission ofthe party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessible and unhospitablefortress; and he well knew that no party of a dozen knights would venturewith hostile intent within the clutches of his great band of villains.

The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort,oldest son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truce andwould have speech with the master of Torn.

"Admit them, Shandy," commanded Norman of Torn, "I will speak with themhere."

When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence it founditself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor.

Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced the outlaw.

"Be ye Norman of Torn ?" he asked. And, did he try to conceal the hatredand loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful.

"They call me so," replied the visored knight. "And what may bring a DeMontfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor ?"

"Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn," replied the young man. "Itis useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for you have usentirely in your power. Name your price and it shall be paid, only bequick and let me hence with my sister."

"What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort ? Your sister ! What meanyou ?"

"Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two days since,after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who were fetching her homefrom a visit upon the Baron's daughter. We know that it was you for theforeheads of the dead men bore your devil's mark."

"Shandy !" roared Norman of Torn. "WHAT MEANS THIS ? Who has been uponthe road, attacking women, in my absence ? You were here and in chargeduring my visit to my Lord de Grey. As you value your hide, Shandy, thetruth !"

"Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest, I have served youwell, Norman of Torn. You should know my loyalty by this time and thatnever have I lied to you. No man of yours has done this thing, nor is itthe first time that vile scoundrels have placed your mark upon their deadthat they might thus escape suspicion, themselves."

"Henry de Montfort," said Norman of Torn, turning to his visitor, "we ofTorn bear no savory name, that I know full well, but no man may say that weunsheath our swords against women. Your sister is not here. I give youthe word of honor of Norman of Torn. Is it not enough ?"

"They say you never lie," replied De Montfort. "Would to God I knew whohad done this thing, or which way to search for my sister."

Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were in wild confusion, and itwas with difficulty that he hid the fierce anxiety of his heart or his rageagainst the perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore his whole being.

In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his party scarce passed thedrawbridge ere the castle of Torn was filled with hurrying men and thenoise and uproar of a sudden call to arms.

Some thirty minutes later, five hundred iron-clad horses carried theirmailed riders beneath the portcullis of the grim pile, and Norman theDevil, riding at their head, spurred rapidly in the direction of the castleof Peter of Colfax.

The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from Torn's buttressed gates,presented a picture of wild barbaric splendor.

The armor of the men was of every style and metal from the ancient bandedmail of the Saxon to the richly ornamented plate armor of Milan. Gold andsilver and precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplate and shield,and even in the steel spiked chamfrons of the horses' head armor showed therich loot which had fallen to the portion of Norman of Torn's wild raiders.

Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance points, and the graybanner of Torn, with the black falcon's wing, flew above each of the fivecompanies. The great linden wood shields of the men were covered with grayleather and, in the upper right hand corner of each, was the black falcon'swing. The surcoats of the riders were also uniform, being of dark grayvillosa faced with black wolf skin, so that notwithstanding the richness ofthe armor and the horse trappings, there was a grim, gray warlikeappearance to these wild companies that comported well with theirreputation.

Recruited from all ranks of society and from every civilized country ofEurope, the great horde of Torn numbered in its ten companies serf andnoble; Britain, Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot, Pictand Irish.

Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf, with the gall marks ofhis brass collar still visible about his neck, rode shoulder to shoulderwith the outlawed scion of a noble house. The only requisites foradmission to the troop were willingness and ability to fight, and an oathto obey the laws made by Norman of Torn.

The little army was divided into ten companies of one hundred men, eachcompany captained by a fighter of proven worth and ability.

Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James Flory led the first threecompanies, the remaining seven being under command of other seasonedveterans of a thousand fights.

One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the always important post ofchief armorer, while Peter the Hermit, the last of the five cut-throatswhom Norman of Torn had bested that day, six years before, in the hut ofFather Claude, had become majordomo of the great castle of Torn, which postincluded also the vital functions of quartermaster and commissary.

The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf and squire in the artof war, for it was ever necessary to fill the gaps made in the companies,due to their constant encounters upon the highroad and their battles at thetaking of some feudal castle; in which they did not always come offunscathed, though usually victorious.

Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman of Torn rode at thehead of the cavalcade, which strung out behind him in a long column. Abovehis gray steel armor, a falcon's wing rose from his crest. It was theinsignia which always marked him to his men in the midst of battle. Whereit waved might always be found the fighting and the honors, and about itthey were wont to rally.

Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man, silent and taciturn;nursing his deep hatred in the depths of his malign brain.

At the head of their respective companies rode the five captains: RedShandy; John Flory; Edwild the Serf; Emilio, Count de Gropello of Italy;and Sieur Ralph de la Campnee, of France.

The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morning and early afternoonbrought forth men, women and children to cheer and wave God-speed to them;but as they passed farther from the vicinity of Torn, where the blackfalcon wing was known more by the ferocity of its name than by the kindlydeeds of the great outlaw to the lowly of his neighborhood, they saw onlyclosed and barred doors with an occasional frightened face peering from atiny window.

It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers of Colfax silhouettedagainst the starry sky. Drawing his men into the shadows of the forest ahalf mile from the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandy and somefifty men to a point as close as they could come without being observed.Here they dismounted and Norman of Torn crept stealthily forward alone.

Taking advantage of every cover, he approached to the very shadows of thegreat gate without being detected. In the castle, a light shone dimly fromthe windows of the great hall, but no other sign of life was apparent. Tohis intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the drawbridge lowered and nosign of watchmen at the gate or upon the walls.

As he had sacked this castle some two years since, he was familiar with itsinternal plan, and so he knew that through the scullery he could reach asmall antechamber above, which let directly into the great hall.

And so it happened that, as Peter of Colfax wheeled toward the door of thelittle room, he stopped short in terror, for there before him stood astrange knight in armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword. The girl sawhim too, and a look of hope and renewed courage overspread her face.

"Draw !" commanded a low voice in English, "unless you prefer to pray, foryou are about to die."

"Who be ye, varlet ?" cried the Baron. "Ho, John ! Ho, Guy ! To therescue, quick !" he shrieked, and drawing his sword, he attempted to backquickly toward the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor was uponhim and forcing him to fight ere he had taken three steps.

It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night had not John andGuy and another of his henchmen rushed into the room with drawn swords.

"Ware ! Sir Knight," cried the girl, as she saw the three knaves rushingto the aid of their master.

Turning to meet their assault, the knight was forced to abandon theterror-stricken Baron for an instant, and again he had made for the doorwaybent only on escape; but the girl had divined his intentions, and runningquickly to the entrance, she turned the great lock and threw the key withall her might to the far corner of the hall. In an instant she regrettedher act, for she saw that where she might have reduced her rescuer'sopponents by at least one, she had now forced the cowardly Baron to remain,and nothing fights more fiercely than a cornered rat.

The knight was holding his own splendidly with the three retainers, and foran instant Bertrade de Montfort stood spell-bound by the exhibition ofswordsmanship she was witnessing.

Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all at the same time,the silent knight, though weighted by his heavy armor, forced them steadilyback; his flashing blade seeming to weave a net of steel about them.Suddenly his sword stopped just for an instant, stopped in the heart of oneof his opponents, and as the man lunged to the floor, it was flashing againclose to the breasts of the two remaining men-at-arms.

Another went down less than ten seconds later, and then the girl'sattention was called to the face of the horrified Baron; Peter of Colfaxwas moving -- slowly and cautiously, he was creeping, from behind, towardthe visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a sharp dagger.

For an instant, the girl stood frozen with horror, unable to move a fingeror to cry out; but only for an instant, and then, regaining control of hermuscles, she stooped quickly and, grasping a heavy foot-stool, hurled itfull at Peter of Colfax.

It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the floor just as theknight's sword passed through the throat of his final antagonist.

As the Baron fell, he struck heavily upon a table which supported the onlylighted cresset within the chamber. In an instant, all was darkness.There was a rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of rats and then thequiet of the tomb settled upon the great hall.

"Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade ?" asked a grave English voiceout of the darkness.

"Quite, Sir Knight," she replied, "and you ?"

"Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron ?"

"He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and carried a thin longdagger in his hand. Have a care, Sir Knight, he may even now be upon you."

The knight did not answer, but she heard him moving boldly about the room.Soon he had found another lamp and made a light. As its feeble rays slowlypenetrated the black gloom, the girl saw the bodies of the threemen-at-arms, the overturned table and lamp, and the visored knight; butPeter of Colfax was gone.

The knight perceived his absence at the same time, but he only laughed alow, grim laugh.

"He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade," he said.

"How know you my name ?" she asked. "Who may you be ? I do not recognizeyour armor, and your breastplate bears no arms."

He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filledwith the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Conde whohad saved her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few short weekssince. Surely it was the same straight and mighty figure, and there wasthe marvelous swordplay as well. It must be he, and yet Roger de Conde hadspoken no English while this man spoke it well, though, it was true, with aslight French accent.

"My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn," said the visored knight with quietdignity.

The girl's heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her. Foryears that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad hatredagainst her kind. Little children were frightened into obedience by thevaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown men had cometo whisper the name with grim, set lips.

"Norman of Torn !" she whispered. "May God have mercy on my soul !"

Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged across thecountenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill ofhopelessness, shook his giant frame.

"You need not fear, My Lady," he said sadly. "You shall be in yourfather's castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon. And you will be saferunder the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your own mightyfather, or your royal uncle."

"It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn," spoke the girl, "and Ibelieve you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De Montfort."

"It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred ofPeter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever. It pleases me todo as I do, that is all. Come."

He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowered drawbridge,to where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and in answer to a lowchallenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that it was he.

"Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole. Bring out to me,alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady's cloak and a palfrey -- and Shandy,when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch ! But no looting,Shandy."

Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never been aweapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime object of hismany raids, was at least a very important consideration.

The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subaltern andsigning him to listen, said:

"Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked and pillaged for the loveof it, and for a principle which was at best but a vague generality.Tonight we ride to redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertrade de Montfort,and that, Shandy, is a different matter. The torch, Shandy, from tower toscullery, but in the service of My Lady, no looting."

"Yes, My Lord," answered Shandy, and departed with his little detachment.

In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners, but no Peter of Colfax.

"He has flown, My Lord," the big fellow reported, and indeed it was true.Peter of Colfax had passed through the vaults beneath his castle and, by along subterranean passage, had reached the quarters of some priests withoutthe lines of Norman of Torn. By this time, he was several miles on his wayto the coast and France; for he had recognized the swordsmanship of theoutlaw, and did not care to remain in England and face the wrath of bothNorman of Torn and Simon de Montfort.

"He will return," was the outlaw's only comment, when he had been fullyconvinced that the Baron had escaped.

They watched until the castle had burst into flames in a dozen places, theprisoners huddled together in terror and apprehension, fully expecting asummary and horrible death.

When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no human power could now savethe doomed pile, he ordered that the march be taken up, and the warriorsfiled down the roadway behind their leader and Bertrade de Montfort,leaving their erstwhile prisoners sorely puzzled but unharmed and free.

As they looked back, they saw the heavens red with the great flames thatsprang high above the lofty towers. Immense volumes of dense smoke rolledsouthward across the sky line. Occasionally it would clear away from theburning castle for an instant to show the black walls pierced by theirhundreds of embrasures, each lit up by the red of the raging fire within.It was a gorgeous, impressive spectacle, but one so common in those fierce,wild days, that none thought it worthy of more than a passing backwardglance.

Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders who wended theirslow way down the mud-slippery road. Norman of Torn was both elated andsad. Elated that he had been in time to save this girl who awakened suchstrange emotions in his breast; sad that he was a loathesome thing in hereyes. But that it was pure happiness just to be near her, sufficed him forthe time; of the morrow, what use to think ! The little, grim, gray, oldman of Torn nursed the spleen he did not dare vent openly, and cursed thechance that had sent Henry de Montfort to Torn to search for his sister;while the followers of the outlaw swore quietly over the vagary which hadbrought them on this long ride without either fighting or loot.

Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder that she should owe herlife and honor to this fierce, wild cut-throat who had sworn especialhatred against her family, because of its relationship to the house ofPlantagenet. She could not fathom it, and yet, he seemed fair spoken forso rough a man; she wondered what manner of countenance might lie beneaththat barred visor.

Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings at his saddle's canteland threw it about the shoulders of the girl, for the night air was chilly,and again he dismounted and led her palfrey around a bad place in the road,lest the beast might slip and fall.

She thanked him in her courtly manner for these services, but beyond that,no word passed between them, and they came, in silence, about midday withinsight of the castle of Simon de Montfort.

The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion by the approach of solarge a party of armed men, so that, by the time they were in hailingdistance, the walls of the great structure were crowded with fighting men.

Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when he was beneath the castlewalls Simon de Montfort called forth:

"Who be ye and what your mission ? Peace or war ?"

"It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the service of a De Montfort,"replied Shandy. "He would enter with one companion, my Lord Earl."

"Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort -- thinks hethat I keep a robbers' roost !" cried the fierce old warrior.

"Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England," boasted the redgiant. "Will you see him in peace, My Lord ?"

"Let him enter," said De Montfort, "but no knavery, now, we are a thousandmen here, well armed and ready fighters."

Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and together, Norman of Tornand Bertrade de Montfort clattered across the drawbridge beneath theportcullis of the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law of HenryIII of England.

The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her protector, for it hadbeen raining, so that she rode beneath the eyes of her father's men withoutbeing recognized. In the courtyard, they were met by Simon de Montfort,and his sons Henry and Simon.

The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount, and, flinging aside theoutlaw's cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent.

"What means this," cried De Montfort, "has the rascal offered you harm orindignity ?"

"You craven liar," cried Henry de Montfort, "but yesterday you swore uponyour honor that you did not hold my sister, and I, like a fool, believed."And with his words, the young man flung himself upon Norman of Torn withdrawn sword.

Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the visored knight flew fromits scabbard, and, with a single lightning-like move, sent the blade ofyoung De Montfort hurtling cross the courtyard; and then, before eithercould take another step, Bertrade de Montfort had sprung between them andplacing a hand upon the breastplate of the outlaw, stretched forth theother with palm out-turned toward her kinsmen as though to protect Normanof Torn from further assault.

"Be he outlaw or devil," she cried, "he is a brave and courteous knight,and he deserves from the hands of the De Montforts the best hospitalitythey can give, and not cold steel and insults." Then she explained brieflyto her astonished father and brothers what had befallen during the past fewdays.

Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked him, was the first tostep forward with outstretched hand to thank Norman of Torn, and to ask hispardon for his rude words and hostile act.

The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said,

"Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the hand of Norman of Torn.I give not my hand except in friendship, and not for a passing moment; butfor life. I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude, but let themnot blind you to the fact that I am still Norman the Devil, and that youhave seen my mark upon the brows of your dead. I would gladly have yourfriendship, but I wish it for the man, Norman of Torn, with all his faults,as well as what virtues you may think him to possess."

"You are right, sir," said the Earl, "you have our gratitude and our thanksfor the service you have rendered the house of Montfort, and ever duringour lives you may command our favors. I admire your bravery and yourcandor, but while you continue the Outlaw of Torn, you may not break breadat the table of De Montfort as a friend would have the right to do."

"Your speech is that of a wise and careful man," said Norman of Tornquietly. "I go, but remember that from this day, I have no quarrel withthe House of Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms, they areat your service, a thousand strong. Goodbye." But as he turned to go,Bertrade de Montfort confronted him with outstretched hand.

"You must take my hand in friendship," she said, "for, to my dying day, Imust ever bless the name of Norman of Torn because of the horror from whichhe has rescued me."

He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one kneeraised them to his lips.

"To no other -- woman, man, king, God, or devil -- has Norman of Torn bentthe knee. If ever you need him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that hisservices are yours for the asking."

And turning, he mounted and rode in silence from the courtyard of thecastle of Leicester. Without a backward glance, and with his five hundredmen at his back, Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning in theroadway.

"A strange man," said Simon de Montfort, "both good and bad, but fromtoday, I shall ever believe more good than bad. Would that he were otherthan he be, for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the enemies ofEngland, an he could be persuaded to our cause."

"Who knows," said Henry de Montfort, "but that an offer of friendship mighthave won him to a better life. It seemed that in his speech was a note ofwistfulness. I wish, father, that we had taken his hand."